We ain’t playing around, yo we getting ready to drop a new one, Amadeus

Verse 1 (O’hene):
I clearly study theories of Roger Sperry
Implications of learning genius were kinda airy
In the monastery ignored the monetary
Without a worry, where laws were arbitrary
I took what was considered vapid and made it classic
Mapped with syntax and a [?] fashion
They cried [?] I dropped a miracle
Literary synergy so of course it’s lyrical, man
My brain synapses surpasses rappers
You average bastards go back and practice
Please stop messing with the O
Executive control is the method of my flow
I tried professor [?] approach of embracing my thoughts
Only to discover I’m thinking of rhyme much more
The griot in me is apparent, look at my appearance
I’m hearing spirits suggesting what I say in my lyrics
In coherence with the incoherent
My mental baring to the left to pay for my artistic depths
‘cause I’m the lost pharaoh, the rebirth of Isis
The righteous descendent from the lords of Isaac
An artist that’s deeper than the salt of the ocean
Or the sedimentary rocks, where’s aphotic?
I stay focused replicating a great opus
[?] reminiscent of the late Moses
Scholars would say prowess phonetic cowards
I find your reticent vowel-less attempts powerless
Compile this in Da Vincian font
A peregrination of rhymes strictly for the savant
To renaissance, scholastic approach to flipping a flow
Only the inquisitive can listen to O
Mozart’s mosaics most say it’s the truest
You need hermeneutics to view it or to review it
Don’t be stupid, I spew with neo-cubic music
Fused with Confucian text and yes Euclid
Elusive thoughts is viewed with new tricks
Blueprints laid for neo phonetic acoustics
Who’s this softest novice that comics topics so complex the optics cannot describe it?
Logic is defied with synoptic topics
My mind is as prophetic as Nostradamus, yo
Yo we getting ready to drop a new one, Amadeus

Verse 2 (Neo P):
I’m back in the building again
Concealing the pen, flow with the realest of men
Neo P and DN3, beats rising, keep rhyming
Whether it’s written or freestyling
RAHM Nation hardcore to the core
Jaws fall to the floor
Amazed like you never saw it before
This is real rap from real cats that twist and peel caps
Philly where I polish my skills at
My rage is put on pages then stages
I’m blazing hearing the cheers of men’s praises
‘cause I hold thangs like Coltrane
Flows is propane, with a match burning you no-names
Me, Ra and O prescribe the flow
I’m trying to take my skills as high as the skies’ll go
You got a problem, child? Then I got Problem Child
To solve them how? With mad syllables and a lot of vowels

Verse 3 (O’hene):
I jot poems from deep inside a dome
And try to flow ‘em to the melody of xylophones
Out in Cameroon, I’m part bobcat and baboon
Spitting the acid that’s like green and maroon
Damn buffoons, your ignorance is just typical
I come whipping you ’til the sting un-n***as you
I’m difficult to describe, you decide
If you want the mental flippin’ and discipline of a Buddhist scribe
The music live with rhymes that do imply
Youths should unify and try to rise with Buddha ties
Cutie pies, I pull out the whip cream
While you waste cream on whips, I’m driving Christine
And this team is the sickest
Equipped with equipment to rip with a vengeance that’s endless
Verse 4 (Random, aka Mega Ran):
I’m better with predicates, you pathetic with rhetoric
I ain’t never been hesitant
It’s RAHM Nation, got a level of excellence
Committing rhymes to memory, I shred all the evidence
Get off scot-free, I’m rougher than hockey
Your boy nice but he not me, top three
Me myself and I ’til the day I touch the sky
Be fully customized sitting high above the lies
I love hip-hop but it really ain’t no comp
You idiot savants won’t give me a response
I literally stomp Sasquatch, why not?
Pull cats outta they whip like operation live stop
Fully certified, verbally I murder guys
Fertilized minds leave your mic cords circumcised
Phenomenal chronicles bombing you
Styles like Miles got these rappers feeling kinda blue
I could get you with a line or two
But wackness is impossible like random rock in a Prada shoe
This is destined, I’m doing what I gotta do
The honorable kinda dude, y’all ain’t got a clue

Verse 5 (Storyville, aka Problem Child):
Here it is, a man here, hip-hop’s grand [?]
Problem Child swinging off the chandeliers
Who’s the best? The facts plainly clear
It’s black and white like some panda bears
Damn the man upstairs if he ain’t give me the chair
These fellas endless here so they always taking care
Folks, holding they toasters close to holsters
We La Costa Nostra poster-boys drinking ambrosia here
Man it gets colder than Boulder, we still smolder
Like Arizona summer sunny, we soldiers, yeah
Paint rhymes on the canvas unleashing phantoms
In your face like Blair Witch amateur cameras yeah
And ya never rhyme like I rhyme
If ever my design some divine, I'll drop puns of pantomime yeah
Let me remind y’all if I ever fall behind
I’ll be like never mind ’til then better beware
[Cuts and Samples]